


Neville Longbottom and the Dragon Tattoo

by delphoxdork, spn-x-reader (delphoxdork)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Original Character(s), Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphoxdork/pseuds/delphoxdork, https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphoxdork/pseuds/spn-x-reader
Summary: Set in a world where all magic folk have soulmarks, each one representing the thing their soulmate is most passionate about. Upon one's soulmate seeing the mark, it becomes full color and completes the soulmate bond, binding two witches' and wizards' powers and creating a strong connection. During the Hogwarts year 1997-1998, Neville Longbottom finds himself doing what he can to resist the dark powers that have forced themselves onto the school. In doing so though, the untimely finding of his soulmate sets him back. What would usually be a joyous occasion especially for a young wizard of his age, is overshadowed by the current events in the world. What's more though is that his soulmate, Arthur McCross, is a Slytherin, one from a group filled with the worst of the worst. Will Neville get past the many preconceived notions he has about Arthur and see the good in him, if there's any at all? And will Arthur break away from fate and learn that the things you love are truly worth standing up for? Only time spent at the hellish year of Hogwarts will tell.
Relationships: Neville Lognbottom/Original Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. The Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a roleplay I did years ago and was abandoned, and I honestly have not got it out of my head since. If my RP partner said today they wanted to start up again, I absolutely would.

Another day, another… day. Arthur McCross wasn’t getting much out of his time at Hogwarts anymore, not even education. He had never valued it much before, but ever since it had gone he wished it were back. The sense of normalcy would do everyone some good, but any hope of that had been thrown out the window since the start of the term. He knew it was best to keep himself out of trouble, so that’s what he did. Arthur wasn’t at much risk for getting into trouble, not since Snape and the Carrows took over, but his life was made all the more easy because he kept his head down and nose clean, if you could call condoning what was going on ‘keeping your nose clean.’

The Slytherin looked himself over in the bathroom mirror, running a hand through his wavy red hair. It was long, hanging just an inch or so above his shoulders with curly bangings constantly having to be trimmed or they threatened to obscure his vision. His dark brown eyes inspected the tiny bit of acne that appeared along his jaw, though he felt lucky that his dense freckles hid it quite well. He scrunched his mouth to one side to get a decent look, showing off the deep dimples that he had that ran all the way to his jaw. Resigned to just leave it, Art leaned back away from the mirror. He was fairly well built, especially his upper body and torso as he was one of two Slytherin beaters. If he had to describe his feelings with his overall appearance, he would say he was just on the pleased side of indifference. Giving himself one last glance, he turned to leave the Slytherin common room.

Making it down to breakfast, Art sat in his usual spot, with his usual people; Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, his good friend Fionn. Mostly, the conversation was kept fairly casual. There was no talk of Death Eater business that morning, the topic was nothing unusual anymore though. A fair few students had parents that followed He Who Shall Not Be Named, most of which were sitting at his table. A few of those around him had pledged their loyalties themselves. Art had never been made to himself, yet, anyway. His father was a Death Eater and the seventh year Slytherin was sure his time would come. He didn’t dwell on the thought much. His whole life was laid out for him and there was no point in fighting it.

As people started leaving the Great Hall for their classes, so too did Art. The first class of the day was Muggle Studies. It was never a particular interesting subject to him, and that was still true now. He knew the class took on quite a bit of a different tone from before, but he just didn’t care about status or muggles or anything of the sort. The only reason he tended to avoid voicing his opinions on the topic was because of his parents and their expectations of him. Art wasn’t the oldest of the four McCross children, but he might as well have been. His older brother, Iulien, was as good as dead to their parents. A blood traitor, they had called him once. So now, Art had the responsibility of being the oldest child, which meant carrying on the family name and pure bloodline. It was just the way things were for those with a name of any social and political standing.

Art sat down at his usual seat in the classroom. Alecto Carrow was already there, unsurprisingly, watching the students enter with a disconcerting smile. He was positive that she enjoyed her job very much _. _ When it was time for class to begin, a handout copied from a book was given to each student containing an article titled  _ “Muggles So Filthy They Bare No Soulmark.”  _ It was nothing new. The only thing new was the reason  _ why _ they were so dirty, which seemed to have a lot of creative answers. This time it was because they didn’t have soulmarks. Honestly he didn’t even think it was that big of a deal.  _ He  _ had a soulmark, but it wasn’t like it was going to make a difference either way. He was going to marry the daughter of some pureblood family in Romania that his mother knew, and that was that. 

The parchment had barely made it to all the students’ hands when there was a snort from the other side of the room. Art looked over, past Fionn who was sitting beside him, to see that the laugh had come from Neville Longbottom. It hadn’t slipped the notice of Professor Carrow. As ridiculous as the article title may have been, this is what Art had meant about keeping his head down. It seemed to him as if the Gryffindors were just asking for their punishments. While perhaps somewhat undeserved, they had to know it was coming by doing things like that. 

“Find something funny, boy?” Carrow asked, her eyes narrowing upon the Gryffindor.

“No ma’am,” he replied quickly, but there was an edge to his voice that did not go unnoticed. Art suspected though that it wouldn’t have made a difference even if it wasn’t there. 

“Then you’ll have no trouble reading today’s topic in front of everyone,” Carrow smiled, her stained yellow teeth making a disturbing appearance. Longbottom looked down at the parchment in front of him, sighed, and got barely more than the first word out before being interrupted. “To the front now, Longbottom, don’t be shy.” 

The Gryffindor sat for just a moment, seemingly contemplating if he was going to argue. Smartly deciding that it must not be worth it though, he got up, gripping the article tightly in one fist, as he stood in front of the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins. He started from the beginning, reading quickly and in an emotionless voice. It was at this point that Art had stopped paying attention, finding a small beetle crawling across the window sill to be more interesting. He only looked away when he heard their professor’s voice goading the student at the front.

“Go on,” she said.

“Mud-” the Gryffindor started but didn’t finish. He was clearly having a hard time saying the word ‘Mudblood’ and Art resisted the urge not to roll his eyes. It was just a word, afterall. Not one that he usually threw around, but still. He would have if it meant avoiding punishment.

"I won’t,” Longbottom said, his voice quiet but firm, and Carrow seemed to take too much pleasure in this. 

“What a shame,” she said, though it was obvious she didn’t mean it. “Children must learn to do what they’re told.” And she raised her wand, pointing it at the Gryffindor. “ _ Cor Impetum, _ ” Professor Carrow hissed and bits of dark purple light went shooting out of the tip of her wand aimed at Longbottom’s chest. 

A wretched gasping could be heard as the boy at the front of the classroom’s hand shot up towards his neck. Like the guy or not, it was an unsettling sight to see him wriggle with his red and gold tie in an attempt to get more air into his lungs. No one moved an inch to help him though as this sort of punishment was no longer a rare occurrence in the walls of Hogwarts, especially not in one of the Carrow’s classrooms. Anyone who so much as made a peep would suffer the same fate. Not doing anything made the torture end quicker. 

Nearly everyone in the room flinched as a dull thud hit their ears; the sound of Longbottom falling to his knees, his tie free but clearly providing no relief. Many chose to look away, some of the Slytherins trying to appear indifferent and shame crossing the faces of the Gryffindors on the opposite side. Art didn’t look away though as he usually had in the face of others’ punishments. For some reason, he couldn’t as the blonde boy now clawed at his shirt. Surely he had suffered enough now for being able to say one word, right? But there was really no telling how long the punishment may go on for. The Carrows gave them out unmercilessly and unfairly. A small ping on the floor could be heard as one of the buttons flew from the top of Longbottom’s collared shirt and rolled away. 

Those that still hadn’t looked away noticed what was clearly the Gryffindor’s exposed soulmark, now exposed by the slightly torn shirt. A gasp rippled through the classroom as the fist sized tattoo of what looked like a sleeping dragon went from a black outline to a brilliant red before their eyes. Anyone who wasn’t looking before certainly was now, and within moments the curse that Carrow was laying into the boy in front of her stopped. 

Art felt like something in him was stirring awake as he watched Longbottom, eyes still closed, trying to catch his breath. The Slytherin’s fist closed into a tight ball on top of the desk in front of him, the sudden urge to go to the front of the room, to go to Longbottom, threatened his limbs. But he didn’t move, not one bit, as the other boy’s blue eyes finally opened. Art watched the events unfold, first as he noticed how the soulmark on his chest had changed, then as his eyes scanned the left side of the room for any sign of who his soulmate might be. 

As the redhead felt prickles on the back of his neck, where his own soulmark was, he tried to convince himself to look away. He didn’t though. He didn’t as Longbottom got to his feet, hurriedly, and almost as an afterthought, threw a glance towards the other side of the room where the Slytherins sat.

“Well look at that!” Professor Carrow said, her voice sounding excited and cold both at once. “One of you unfortunate brats are stuck with this sad excuse of a wizard.” For one excruciating moment that felt both like a lifetime and entirely not enough time, Longbottom’s blue eyes locked with Art’s brown ones after just a second of searching. There was a tiny flicker of realization in his gaze among the horror present in his expression before he turned to leave. Art stared at the now empty doorway for a moment longer before dropping his gaze to the desk right in front of him, his stomach dropping low into his gut as his heart, at odds, felt lighter somehow. He wanted to bring as little attention to himself as he could in that moment- the last thing he needed was for people to realize that it had been him who completed that soulmark on the Gryffindor’s chest. 

“I wonder who it was,” Fionn said, talking about the incident once they were away from the classroom. Art didn’t reply, his mind coming up blank with any response that wouldn’t make it seem as though he was the guilty party. His neck continued to itch and he brought a hand up under his russet locks to scratch at it. He knew it wouldn’t help, but there was nothing more he was willing to do for the nagging sensation that ran much deeper than just the surface of his skin. It felt almost as if his very being was in protest at the injustice of the soulmate bond not being completed. The more he thought of it, the more he was sure that was exactly what was happening. 

“Everything alright mate?” Fionn had kept talking as Art followed along distractedly, just now noticing that he hadn’t been paying much attention.

“Yeah, fine,” the redhead assured, though unconvincingly. Luckily for him, his best friend dropped the subject as they headed off towards their next class.

That night before bed Art locked himself in the bathroom and pulled his pajama shirt off with his back facing the mirror. He twisted around to take a good look at the soulmark that took up a good portion of his upper back. Directly in the middle was a black seed and sprouting from it were thin vine tendrils that worked their way up his back and underneath his hairline, one even going so far as to loop over his right shoulder. He supposed it made sense that Longbottom was his soulmate as Herbology seemed to be the only thing the wizard had excelled at in his whole time at the school. Arthur thought back to the dark red dragon tattoo that sat curled up roughly over where the Gryffindor’s heart would be. He nearly wished he could get a better look at it, to see what kind of dragon it was, but then he stopped himself from going down that line of thinking, roughly pulled his shirt back over his head, and went to bed. Nothing of the sort would do him any good.


	2. The Completion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thoughts about this story are towards the middle/end where I left off the first time I wrote everything out, so re-working my way to that point will take a little bit of time, for which I apologize. 
> 
> Thanks for reading though if you are! Please enjoy the picture of Art included :)

“Look who decided to join us,” Art McCross was greeted as he took his seat at the Slytherin table for dinner. Food had already piled itself high in the middle as everyone around him was eating away happily. He took a seat in between Fionn and Blaize before reaching for his share.

“I got distracted,” he finally answered after just shoveling food into his mouth. 

“I thought you needed to study?” Fionn asked a little incredulously. It was no secret that Art wasn’t the best student around. He didn’t like most of his classes and he didn’t particularly enjoy studying and generally avoided it as much as possible. Getting distracted by studying was a prospect that seemed out of character to his close friend, which was a fair assessment. 

“Yeah, I was,” he replied after a long moment, chewing, barely registering who had even asked the question. Art had plenty of other things on his mind at the moment, the exact same things that had caused him to nearly miss dinner. The conversation died there as the students ate their dinner and the redhead was doing what he could to avoid scratching at the back of his neck. It felt tingly nearly all the time, but it was so much worse when _he_ was in the same room as him.

Even though the Great Hall was large, Longbottom still shared the same space as him, and his tattoo knew it. It was weird, giving sentience to a tattoo, soulmark or not, but that’s what it felt like. It was as though the tendrils running up his neck were so much more than skin deep, with the one that curled just out of sight behind his ear seemingly whispering, urging Art to… to do what, he didn’t know. Every slight movement of his red hair over the soulmark was aggravating. It wasn’t painful by any means, but a fervent itch dug into his skin. 

The table was fairly silent and it wasn’t til Art and Fionn were alone in the common room that the latter rounded on his friend. 

“It’s you, isn't it?” The shorter boy said. Art tensed, his first thought going to Longbottom and the fact that he was his soulmate, but he couldn't be sure. If he just continued to deny- “It is..” Fionn interrupted his thoughts, seemingly more assured by his friend’s silence. 

“What do you mean, it’s me?” Art found his voice, deciding to act as though he had no idea what his mate was getting at. 

“You’re Longbottom’s soulmate. You haven’t been right since it happened and you keep scratching at your neck. I know that’s where your mark is, Art,” Fionn gave the redhead a pointed look, crossing his arms almost as if he was feeling triumph from being able to figure it out. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking ab-”

“McCross, I’m not _that_ thick,” he cut his friend off once more “and neither are you.” Art sighed and dropped himself down on his bed, defeated. 

“Fine, so what if it is me?” His voice carried some anger but his slouching poster revealed that he was really just tired. It wasn’t easy to keep a secret like this from everyone, the only person who did know was the last person he could ever talk to. Now that Art thought about it, he wasn’t sure if the pair had ever had any sort of interaction together. Sure, Longbottom stood out sometimes in his memory, especially as of late for getting himself into so much trouble, but that was really it. Aside from Art having been on the quidditch team and named Prefect in his 5th year, he wasn’t sure how aware the Gryffindor had been of him prior to the incident in Muggle Studies. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? Have you talked to him at all?” Fionn replied and Art looked up at him incredulously. 

“Talk to him? And what good would that do? I can’t _be_ with him- Fionn. You know how little emphasis is put on soulmates by Pureblood families. From what I know, his family doesn’t seem to care, but mine most certainly does. They already know the name of the family whose daughter I’m going to marry.” All of Arthur’s thoughts came out at once. He had been thinking this for the past twenty-four hours, and it felt good to finally say them out loud. 

“Shite,” Fionn said, sitting down on his bed across from Art. “You’re right,” he paused for a moment. “If things were different would you want…?” He trailed off. 

“I’ve known for a long time that I was not going to be with my soulmate. I never even thought I’d meet them, although it doesn’t change anything. Maybe if I had grown up expecting to live happily ever after with a soulmate, it would be different. But I didn’t and I don’t care any now.” His words weren’t him fighting the truth, they were indeed exactly how he felt. The bond that hummed over his skin and seemed to settle in the pit of his stomach seemed to disagree though. 

“I see,” was all his friend had said. Art looked at him, trying to decipher his thoughts. Fionn was a short boy, not so much more than Art though, probably standing close to 170cm. He had short, sandy brown hair with slightly elongated side burns as if he was trying to grow a full blown beard but just wasn’t quite there yet. The pair both were from Ireland, though Art just being half Irish by blood, his mother’s family coming from Romania. Fionn’s pale blue eyes were looking down at the floor, his thick brows bunched together in thought. 

“Well if that’s it for tonight’s interrogation I’d very much like to go to bed, thanks,” said Art before the other boy could say whatever it was that was on his mind. Fionn looked for a moment as if he would argue, but then decided he’d be better off to leave it. 

The redhead made his way to the washroom to get ready for bed, and as he did so he felt the back of his neck tingle unpleasantly. The ruddy tattoo was driving him mad and he could tell that it was for lack of a complete bond. Art stared at himself in the mirror after splashing cold water into his face. After a moment, he turned around and did his best to lift his hair and get a glimpse of the grey vines looping around themselves on his pale neck. He couldn’t help but think that maybe if he just let the bond complete itself it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe then he would get some relief and both he and Longbottom could move on with their lives- if the other boy was even bothered by it like he was. 

Art tried to picture himself with short hair. He had always worn it longer, the shortest it ever being down to his chin. But his brother had short, albeit dark, hair and he looked alright, he supposed. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to just cut it all off. He had enough experience cutting his own hair, he had to trim his bangs quite regularly. Making up his mind, he went to go change into his pajamas, leaving his nightshirt off for now. Before the Slytherin knew it, he had his wand in one hand and a fistful of hair in the other. 

“ _Diffindo_ ,” he muttered under his breath. Art let go of the hair in his grasp and it fell to the floor. He instantly mourned the loss of his hair but decided that the annoying tingling sensation that worked up the back of his neck made it worth it. There was no point in turning back now anyhow. As he worked, clumps of red hair layered the floor, the sink, and his shoulders. He cut the sides as close to his head as he could, but chose to keep the top long. Art wasn’t an extremely vain person, but he did rather like his long hair. 

After the Slytherin cleaned everything up he inspected the job he had done in the mirror. It honestly didn’t look too bad. After brushing all the excess hair off him he pulled on his nightshirt and buttoned it up around his neck so it was situated where a collared shirt would be. Looking at it in the mirror once more, there were about two inches of his soulmark exposed, four twisting vines now visible, including the one that curled behind his ear. Art thought that he had a rather large soulmark in comparison to the few others he had seen, but he was lucky to at least be able to show off at least a small portion of it for his plan to work. 

By the time he had finished everyone else had gone to bed, the curtains of five four-poster beds had been drawn around their owners. Art was glad that he didn’t have to explain his sudden haircut that night- he felt too exhausted. He crawled into his bed and was quickly out for the night with his fellow peers.

Things were quiet for a while after Art cut his hair. Few words were said about it, the worst he had to deal with was Fionn’s raised eyebrows and skeptical looks. But the days passed and while the redhead was acutely aware of every time he was anywhere near Longbottom, nothing seemed to change. He could tell the bond hadn’t been made complete (even though he had no idea what it would feel like once it was) and nothing changed about the itching feeling on the back of his neck. Cutting his hair to show off his soulmark was beginning to feel like a mistake. It made him feel too exposed, too open, and clearly it had gotten him nowhere. 

Art thought this as he sat down for his Muggle Studies class a week later, rubbing his hand self consciously down the back of his neck for probably the hundredth time that day. The moment he felt a sharp tingle down the vine shaped mark his eyes shot to the door just in time to see the Gryffindor walk through, chatting quietly with another student. Arthur looked down just as quickly, convinced at this point that the other boy was not experiencing the same things his soulmark was making him experience. 

The redhead pushed his shoulders back and sat up straight, hoping this would help position his collar in a way that would hide the grey vines climbing up his neck. His regret had gotten the better of him, making him decide that it would be better to not encourage the bond in any way. The lesson began shortly after, Carrow assigning them an essay on five reasons why Muggles were inferior to Wizards and Witches. Considering that the class had given many more ‘reasons’ than just five in the month and a half since it had begun, this wouldn’t be very hard. Art tasked himself with finishing the essay before class ended so he wouldn’t have to remember to do it later, and set to work. As he regurgitated the ideas he had been reading about in class, his shoulders slumped with the effort of trying to get everything onto paper in the 45 minute time limit. 

The class was coming to a close and the Slytherin could hear some of those around him trying to silently pack their things. He was still trying to write the last bit of information he needed to end the essay- it wouldn’t be very good, but at least it would be complete. He was leaning down over the parchment, both elbows on the desk in front of him as he quickly wrote. He had nearly finished when he felt a strange, warm sensation tingle at the back of his neck and travel its way both up his scalp and down his shoulders to his mid back. His whole body tensed and he stopped writing immediately, taking in the feeling. If he was honest, it felt _good_ , and that alone wasn’t a great sign. Art couldn’t help but look back at where Longbottom was sitting to see that the Gryffindor was staring right at him, looking just as tense. 

Art quickly turned around, staring blankly at his paper for a moment. His mind felt empty, unable to grab onto any frantic thought as he could feel the bond complete itself. It seemed as if his very soul was being knit together with some piece that it had been missing his whole life. As class ended and he deftly shoved his belongings into his bag, thinking that letting the bond have what it wanted was a very bad idea after all. 


End file.
